Marriage of Convenience
by Lacey
Summary: Red and Purple conclude a peace treaty with unexpected results. (Mild slash)
1. 1

**Author's Notes: **Invader Zim is the property of Jhonen Vasquez and his tribe of winged monkeys at Nickelodeon. I own nothing but the Wevers. And yes, just for the record, **this is slash**. If the thought of alien species in m/m relationships leaves you feeling queasy, then you might want to find something else to read. And if you want to see a piccy of Neese, head to http://www.angelfire.com/tv2/dals/neese.jpg And a big thanks go out to Bast-chan for beta-reading this and coming up with the name "Wever." 

**Marriage of Convenience**

From his seat, Purple studied Tilith Va-Surese, the chief elder of the Va-Surese Wever tribe. As a whole, Purple found Wevers to be a hideous species, with their bluish skin and silvery hair. Tilith was more stomach-churning than most of his kind, his body gnarled and face lined with age. As disgusting as the Wevers were to look upon, Purple had to admit to himself that they were at least polite, which made dealing with them much easier. 

Tilith bowed as low as his body would allow, and Purple nodded in response to the gesture. "So good to see you again," the Tallest murmured, remembering his own manners. "I trust we will be able to finish the negotiations today." Normally, the Irkens would have just over-run the Wevers' home planet and negotiations would have been quite unnecessary. Unfortunately, the various Wever tribes were scattered across the galaxy and Irken resources would have been strained to try and conquer all of the planets at once. Red, who was busy sampling the various snacks, still tried to persuade Purple to try attacking anyway. 

"I believe that today we shall indeed finish." Tilith's voice was faint, mere sound upon a breeze. Leaning against a knotted wooden walking staff, Tilith stepped out of the doorway. A slim form filled the vacated space, obsidian eyes glittering as a younger Wever stared at the Irkens. "My youngest, Neese," Tilith introduced. "He will be observing today." Red grumbled under his breath and motioned for the Wevers to sit, already bored with the proceedings. 

Wicker creaked as Tilith eased himself into a chair. He passed his staff to Neese, who set it against the wall, then turned to Purple. Purple leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "My partner and I have had a chance to look over your demands." Two pairs of jet-black eyes glanced in Red's direction. Tilith's face betrayed none of his thoughts, but Neese let out a soft snort, obviously not believing that Red had helped with anything. Red rumbled a low growl at the sound and Tilith turned to his son and shook his head. The message was quite clear. These were not creatures to be insulted. 

When he fixed his gaze back on Purple, Tilith permitted himself a small smile. "Please, forgive the impudence of the young one. He has much to learn, Tallest. Now, let us get back to the business at hand." Purple nodded, as under the table and out of sight he placed a calming hand on Red's knee. 

"We find your requests most reasonable," Purple concluded. "Oddly phrased in places, yes, but still quite reasonable." He still wasn't quite sure why the Wever's requests referred to the tentative peace as "a union between the two species," but figured that it was probably a language nuance. 

"Excellent!" Tilith exclaimed, his long ears perking up. Neese, on the other hand, froze, fixing his gaze on Purple. His lips pursed into a thin, tight line, like a knife had slid across his face to form his mouth. Purple slid the final draft of the treaty across the table to Tilith. Before signing, Tilith studied the Irken insignia at the top of the page, as if committing it to memory. At last, he signed the page. "Please," Tilith continued, "to celebrate this new union, won't you stay and sample the hospitality of my home?" 

Purple started to decline, but Red broke in. "We'd love to!" Only then did he swallow his mouthful of trillops, before picking up another of the wiggly shellfish. Purple shuddered, not knowing how Red could eat something that was still alive. Neese also seemed a bit pale as he watched Red feast. Obviously he didn't care for trillops either. 

"Excellent, excellent," Tilith continued to murmur as he rose. "Then we are done here. My home is your's, mighty Tallest." He held out his hand and Neese promptly laid the staff in Tilith's waiting palm. Neese cast withering glances back at Purple as he followed his father out of the room. 

The moment the door shut behind the Wevers, Red pushed aside the bowl of trillops. "Well, that wasn't so bad. I figured you two would spend all day arguing like yesterday." Purple said nothing as he began reading again over the treaty. Even though it was now too late to change anything, he wanted to be certain he understood all the terms. "And," Red chirruped, "We're going to get quite a feast tonight! I just know it!" 

"Don't you ever think of anything but your stomach?" Purple asked, not looking up from the document. 

Red hooked his fingers around Purple's waist, drawing his partner towards him. "But of course, Ptor. There are always other things." With his other hand, Red tugged lightly on Purple's antennae, trying to draw Purple's attention away from the treaty. 

Purple laughed and stood, sliding out of Red's grip. "Not here, Tallest," he said, using the title as a mild form of mocking. "When we get back to the Massive, then we can do those other things." Purple brushed his fingers against Red's cheek lightly, enjoying the sound of Red's purring. 

As he stroked Red, Purple's gaze strayed to the windows. Purple had to admit that even though he didn't care for the Wevers, they had a knack for architecture. Their buildings were light and airy, a sharp contrast to the pure functionality of Irken architecture. Instead of eradicating the natural landscape, the Wevers worked with the land to create beautiful cities. Giving his partner one last pat, Purple floated to the doorway. Red's eyes flew open, surprised that Purple had stopped. "Where are you going?" he demanded like a petulant child. 

"I'm going to go contact the Massive," Purple responded, lips quirking into a smile. "We don't want them strafing the planet now that there's peace. And then I'm going to find someplace quiet to get some work done." He didn't mention that he was going to hide out in Tilith's gardens. He rarely had the chance to get some time alone, and he was going to take advantage of it while he could. 

Leaving Red alone, Purple found a comm panel and made contact with the Massive. Once everything was settled, and a stack of paperwork was printed out, he slid outside. "Beautiful," he murmured to himself, admiring the lavish growth. He paused by a vine in bloom with large scarlet flowers, breathing in the perfumed scent. Purple made a note to bring Red by later. Spotting a sheltered alcove, Purple settled down and got to work, detaching his backpod so that he could feel the warm sun on his back. 

The golden silence that Purple was basking in was punctured by voices. "Father, you can't seriously be considering this! We don't even know if those monsters can be trusted!" The speaker, even in anger, had a soft voice that stroked the ear like velvet - not too deep, not too high; a voice that would have been pleasant if the speaker hadn't been speaking harshly. Curious, Purple crept forward, peering out from between the vines. Neese and Tilith had entered the garden. The younger Wever paced back and forth with the restlessness of a caged animal, while Tilith rested on a rock. 

"Peace, Neese." Purple had to strain his hearing to catch Tilith's words. "I have spoken with the Tallest about his culture, and though they are a warrior race, they are honorable. They will abide by the union." 

"But... But," Neese sputtered. "How can you know, Father? The Tall Ones could be lying just to get what they want! Or they may reject the union! Then it will all be for naught!" 

Tilith's head cocked to the side as he listened to Neese's tirade. As usual, the elder Wever remained completely nonplussed. "Sometimes one must rely on instinct, Neese, and my instinct tells me that Tallest Purple will honor the treaty. If I were dealing with his brutish partner, I would be more wary. And the union will not be rejected. The Tall One told me that among his kind, such distinctions as male and female are irrelevant. Now, let us go back inside. This light is hurting my eyes." 

And then the two Wevers were gone, leaving Purple to puzzle over their dialogue. He'd originally assumed that when the Wevers spoke of a "union" they were speaking of peace between their kind and the Irkens. Now, though, he was starting to think that "union" meant something else entirely, though he had no clue what. Frowning, Purple pulled out a copy of the treaty and began puzzling over its words yet again, determined to figure out what this "union" was. 

Dusk spilled over the gardens, and still Purple was no closer to finding the answer he sought. Bells rang out their silvery song and Purple at last put away the treaty. The time had come to head inside. Purple figured that if he missed supper, he would offend Tilith. And besides, for all his jokes about Red's constant eating, Purple found himself hungry. Before heading inside, Purple paused by the vine with the scarlet flowers. He slid a hand among the blooms, wispy tendrils of vine curling about his fingers. _'Beautiful,'_ he thought. He would have to get some cuttings and see if such vines would thrive in the Massive's hydroponics bay. For the moment, though, Purple satisfied himself with plucking one of the flowers. He figured that Red would like it, at least for the color if nothing else. 

When Purple arrived at Tilith's dining hall, he found Red waiting for him. "Where have you been, Pur?" the scarlet-clad Tallest began, not even bothering with a greeting. "Their up to something! I've tried asking some of the servants, but all they say is that their preparing for a ceremony. What kind of ceremony is it?" 

Purple shrugged. In the bit of research he did on Weavers, Purple couldn't remember reading about any ceremonies that would coincide with the negotiations, though Wevers had many strange ceremonies. "Maybe they're just preparing for the peace," he guessed. "Or they could be celebrating the date that one of their kind was born on. It's a strange custom, but I remember reading that they do that." With his educated guess finished, Purple held the flower out to his partner. 

Red laughed as he scooped up the bright bloom. "Pur, you sentimental fool! What am I going to do with this?" As he saw Purple's antennae slump, Red smiled and slid the flower's stem under one of his armor's shoulder latches. "Well, how do I look?" 

"Beautiful," Purple murmured, not entirely referring to the addition of the flower. Red merely laughed again, and, clapping his partner on the shoulder, entered the dining hall. With no other options, Purple followed. 

Bright buntings hung from the ceiling, ivy-like vines curling along the ropes that held the buntings. Chains of flowers encircled the dishes. Purple licked his lips as he stared at the food, the sight of the meal stirring his hunger. "They've been setting this up all day," Red whispered. Purple stifled a chuckle at his partner's worries. No doubt the Wevers were just trying to impress the two Tallests. The Irkens took their seats on Tilith's right; Purple smiling and relaxed, Red watching for the trap he knew must be hidden amongst all the pretty flowers. 

Course followed delicious course - a citrus-flavored soup, fresh salad, dark bread, some sort of fish seasoned with spicy herbs, and a creamy fruit dessert. Purple devoured everything that was placed in front of him while Tilith looked on with a smile. When at last the meal was done, Tilith rose, banging the butt of his staff on the floor to get the hall's attention. "My people," the Wever elder began. "Today is a great day, a day of peace! On this day, the Va-Surese have made new allies for all of Wever-kind, and now we shall cement this union!" 

Purple froze, antennae leaping up. There was that word again. Tilith made a sweeping gesture, and the Wever to his left, his eldest son, pulled a metal rod out from under the table and placed it in front of Purple. "Examine it," Tilith ordered, his gentle smile contradicted by the icy tone of command in his voice. "Is it the symbol of your kind?" Purple picked up the rod, finding it not at all heavy. He studied the end where the slim rod expanded. Wrought in the dark metal was the familiar triangle broken by a circle that was the Irken insignia. When Purple nodded, Tilith took the rod and laid the end with the insignia in one of the braziers that kept the chill of night from filling the dining hall. "Please stand, Tallest Purple. We must complete the ceremony if you wish for union." 

Purple turned a helpless gaze to Red, wishing he understood what was happening. But all he found in Red's eyes was the same confusion that he was feeling. All eyes were on the Irkens, but no one volunteered any answers. Slowly Purple rose, towering over Tilith. The elder pointed with his staff to a garland-festooned altar where a Wever priest in dark robes waited. Some of the tension left Purple as he decided that the Wevers were asking their god to bless the peace - a primitive superstition, but one that he could play along with. Purple hovered to the altar, feeling certain that he could handle this. 

The moment Purple came to a stop, as if on cue, a door behind the altar swung open and a new figure was escorted into the dining hall. Definitely a Wever, Purple decided, though he could make out little else. This new Wever wore robes of scarlet, a veil obscured the face so that all that showed was a forehead and a cascade of silver hair woven with flowers. Two guards marched on each side of the Wever, as if making sure it wouldn't run away. 

"In the name of Zadray, kneel," the priest commanded, his booming voice echoing through the hall. Both Purple and the veiled Wever knelt. Zadray, Purple remembered, was the Wever's god. The priest, like priests all over the universe, began a sermon, describing the wonders of peace and love to the assembled. Purple tuned it out after the first few minutes. By the time the sermon was over, Purple hoped he would be allowed to stand soon because his legs were beginning to cramp. 

Suddenly the priest came out from behind the altar, a wooden bowl in his hands. He stopped first in front of Purple and dipped a finger into the bowl. Yellow goo clung to that slim finger. With practiced ease, the priest made a mark on Purple's forehead, then did the same with the mysterious Wever. "I now pronounce two are one in union," the priest declared. Purple's squeedily spooch turned to ice as he began to realize what was happening. The kneeling Wever's escort pulled down the back of the scarlet robes. "Stand, Tallest Purple, and mark what is now your property," the priest murmured. 

Tilith appeared at Purple's side, holding the branding iron with the Irken insignia. Now Purple understood what the elder meant when he'd said during the negotiations that the two species would be one in union. Gingerly Purple took the rod, wishing fervently that he could get out of this marriage. But if he stopped now, then the peace was over and he'd probably be ripped to shreds by the Wevers, though he was sure they'd be quite polite about it. With no other choice, Purple pressed the brand into the back of the kneeling Wever. 

Whoever was beneath that veil had a will of titanium, for the Wever didn't squirm or scream. All Purple heard was a sharp intake of breath. When the hot iron was pulled away, the Irken insignia stood out painfully against the blue skin. The escort lifted the Wever up, and Purple reached out to remove the veil. Neese glared at Purple with a fierce hatred, tears streaming from his dark eyes and staining the collar of his scarlet robes. 


	2. 2

**Disclaimer: **You know the drill. Invader Zim is property of the oh-so-spiffy Jhonen Vasquez and his tribe of winged monkeys at Nickelodeon. Neese and the Wevers are mine, though! Fear the twistiness of my demented mind! Anyway, when we last left off, Purple was conned into marriage to Neese Va-Surese. And now, for everyone who's wondering what Red is going to do, please read on. 

**Chapter 2**

Red was confused. That wasn't anything new, though, since the customs of most species never made sense to him. Life would be so much easier if everyone did things the same way - the Irken way. Taking a long gulp of wine, Red nudged the Wever next to him, a prim-looking female. "So, what's happening here?" he asked. 

"Union," the female answered tersely, her eyeridges knitting together in annoyance. Red motioned for her to go on. When she didn't take the hint immediately, he let out a low growl. She stiffened, eyeing the Irken warily, her lower lip catching between her teeth as she tried to come up with other ways to describe union. "Becoming lifemates... Marriage..." 

Marriage! Red's goblet clattered to the floor as he stared in shock. He only knew what marriage was because Purple had spent an hour explaining. They'd both laughed at the time, finding the concept to be one of the most hilarious they'd ever heard of. Now that it was happening, though, Red didn't feel like laughing. His brain was trying to order various parts of his body to stop sitting like useless lumps and do something to stop this. 

At last one of those messages made it to Red's feet, and he leapt up. "No!" he roared, storming towards Tilith with every intention of ripping off the elder's head. "You can't do this!" Though the elder showed no fear, a contingent of guards flowed between him and Tallest Red. Red wasn't too far gone to risk diving into that bristling nest of spears, but that didn't stop him from speaking his mind. "I'm going to kill you for this, Tilith Va-Surese! I'm going to rip you open and feast on your organs! Your blood will run through this hall in rivers! Your children's children's children will die of fright at the mention of your fate! Your-" 

"Dak!" Red swallowed his tirade. Purple never called by his true name in public! Never! The sea of guards parted to allow Purple to hover through. Like Tilith, Purple hid his thoughts behind a mask of icy calm, but he wrung his hands together nervously, an action Red recognized as a not good sign. Purple paused to flick off the translator hanging from his neck, and Red did likewise. "Red..." Purple's voice was painfully loud in the choking silence. "There's nothing we can do. It was all in the treaty. We just didn't realize..." 

Red swallowed a hard lump that was rising in his throat. "But you're mine, Ptor. Mine! And I'm not going to share you with that Greese or Meese or whatever he's called! I'd rather destroy this planet first!" 

"Neese," Purple corrected in that infuriating way he had. At the sound of his name being spoken with a trilling Irken accent, the young Wever's head snapped up. "We'll think of something, Red. I promise." 

"I've already thought of something," Red growled. Then, without any warning, he spun into action, grabbing a spear from one of the guards. Tallest Red was a blur of scarlet as he plunged into the knot of guards, determined to reach Tilith. The guards faltered in a moment of indecision, sense of duty battling with self-preservation. 

Red took advantage of that precious moment of hesitation, disarming his enemies in a dangerous dance. Even the imperturbable Tilith was shaken by the Tallest's ferocity. Tilith's eldest son lunged into the pack, tackling Red to the ground. The guards piled on and pinned the Tallest down. With eight Wevers struggling to keep Red down, he released his fury by bellowing the vilest oaths he knew at Tilith. 

At the same time, Neese began cursing both of the Tallests; first Red for trying to attack Tilith, and then Purple for everything else in general. By this time, Purple had turned his translator back on, he was starting to regret doing so. "This is not what should be," Tilith murmured as he appeared beside Purple. The Irken could only nod assent as he watched a sleeping draught forced down Red's throat. 

When at last the draught took hold and Red's struggles grew feeble, did the Wevers climb off of the Irken leader. "Take him to the guest quarters," Tilith ordered, nudging Red's body with his staff. "He is to be confined only." The elder turned his prunish face to Purple, his stony gaze softening. "And you also should rest, Tall One. The occasion has been more stressful than I thought. Your room is waiting for you." 

Purple barely heard Tilith as he watched Red being carted out of the dining hall. He wanted desperately to follow his partner, but a pair of guards lined up beside him. For all of Tilith's politeness, Purple realized that he was a prisoner in Tilith's home. With a resigned sigh, Purple prepared to have himself led like a puppy to wherever Tilith wanted him to go. Neese was proving less cooperative, the guards having to drag him along as he struggled to escape. 

To call the room which Purple and Neese were taken to opulent would have been understatement. The middle of the room was piled high with inviting cushions. The carpet looked so soft that Purple had to give in to temptation and turn off his levitation belts just to see for himself that it wasn't some sort of illusion. His feet sank into the carpet, and after each step the carpet held his boot prints. 

One Purple's guards stationed himself at the doorway, reminding the Tallest once again of his prisoner status. The other went to help Neese's escort with their unruly charge. The three managed to force the young Wever against the wall, where they shackled his leg. "Tilith's orders. Don't want him running away," the door guard explained, frowning in disapproval. "As long as you don't try to leave until sunrise, you won't be chained." 

Next the guards ripped off Neese's robes, leaving the Wever bare. When the guards turned to Purple, he snapped at them angrily. "I can undress myself, thank you very much! Now get out of here before I kick you out!" If Purple hadn't towered two feet over the tallest guard, they might have insisted otherwise. Instead, though, they bowed and left the room, the lock clicking behind them. 

"Don't come near me!" Neese shrieked, his slim body shaking, though whether from fear or anger Purple couldn't tell. Purple smiled as he studied his reluctant roommate. Neese obviously took care of himself, his lean form attesting to a daily workout regimen. And for the first time, Purple had a chance to see first-hand an anatomy he'd only heard about in Biology of Alien Species back at the Academy. 

"Are you always this bold when Tilith's not around?" Purple asked as he began dividing up the cushions. One for himself, one for Neese, one for himself, one for Neese... 

"You leave my father out of this!" Neese shouted, his face darkening. "He only wants what is best for our people!" The boy slumped to the ground, chain clanking as he moved. Casting his eyes down, he murmured, "Sometimes the few must make sacrifices so that the many may prosper." 

Purple gathered up as many cushions from the Neese pile as he could and carried them across the room to the Wever. Neese jerked away as Purple approached, cringing at the pain from the branding. "Those would be Tilith's words, yes?" Neese's guilty silence was answer enough. Purple crouched down beside Neese. The Wever's ebony eyes widened and his nostrils flared. _'Afraid,'_ Purple decided. _'Definitely afraid.'_

Purple ran his fingers through Neese's hair. The way the strands curled around his fingers reminded him of the vine he'd admired earlier. "I'm not going to hurt you, Neese," Purple promised. "You see those pillows over there? That's where I'm going to be all night long, and you will sleep on this pile right here. Nothing will happen. Do you understand?" Some of the tension left Neese as he nodded. With that settled, Purple went to his pile and laid down, turning his back to Neese. 

"Sleep well, Tall One," Neese whispered in the fading light. 


	3. 3

**Author's Note: **Me no own IZ. Jhonen and his winged monkeys do! But Neese and the Wevers are mine! Mwah! And I really have no clue how to end this sucker! 

**Chapter 3**

Neese shifted among his bed of cushions, unable to sleep. Though the room was dark, his gaze never left the slumbering form of Tallest Purple. Sitting up, Neese tugged on the chain, a futile gesture as he still remained prisoner. Neese scowled in the dark, conjuring up plans only to discard them. Escape was out of the question. But maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to escape... 

Rising, Neese grabbed a cushion and made his way to Purple, the chain slithering along the floor behind him. Neese straddled the Tallest easily, placing a foot on each side of the thin waist. Even in sleep, Purple looked serious, his brow knotted up with worry. Easing down to his knees, Neese reached out to push Purple's mouth closed, only to grin as it fell open again. Neese clutched his cushion to his stomach. He'd never done anything like this before, but he wasn't about to spend the rest of his life as someone's property. _'Now or never,'_ he told himself silently as he knelt close to press the cushion against Purple's face. 

Suddenly a double-fingered hand shot up, grabbing Neese by the nape of the neck and hurling him away. Neese's bare chest scraped against the carpet, and he rolled to his feet in time to see the Tall One crouching too near for comfort. A low hiss slid out from between Purple's teeth as he glared at the Wever. With a frightened squeak, Neese dove for his pile of cushions, that being the closest bit of cover he could reach. 

All civility seemed to have vanished as Purple pursued. He leapt onto Neese as the young Wever tried to scurry away, and wrestled him to the floor. The Irken's talons dug into the fresh brand, causing Neese to scream into the carpet. "Not all that different, are we, Wever?" Purple's murmured into Neese's ear. "Both our kinds play at being civilized, cultured, respectable - but beneath that thin veneer, we are both quite savage." 

Neese swallowed hard, pulse pounding in his throat. He whimpered softly as Purple's claws circled the area around the brand, sending tiny slivers of pain through his back. Purple's breath was hot on the back of Neese's neck - short panting breaths that made the Wever tremble more than the pain. "Don't! Please please don't!" Neese pleaded, choking on a sob. 

For all of his attempts at bravado, Neese was still quite young, barely old enough to be considered an adult by the standards of his culture. His soft crying forced that realization on Purple, as well as the knowledge that all he was doing was scaring the boy. "Oh knock it off!" Purple snapped as he rolled off of Neese. "I'm not going to hurt you. This time." Purple couldn't help being a bit short-tempered with the boy. He was tired, cranky, separated from Red, and the kid had just tried to kill him. Under the circumstances, Purple was quite proud of the fact that he _didn't_ kill Neese. 

Swallowing hard, Neese scurried as far from Purple as his chain would allow. He looked as though he'd go further if he could. Purple crouched down beside the wall bracket that held the chain in place. He'd tried in the past to convince Red that showing mercy on one's enemies could be a good thing. Now to test the theory. A single metallic leg eased out of Purple's backpod, a spark sizzling at the tip. The laser cut through the chain in seconds. Yawning, Purple waved a dismissive hand at Neese. "If you can escape, then get going and let me sleep." 

The chain clanked as Neese pulled it to him. "Why?" the Wever asked, his eye ridges knitting together in confusion, but Purple paid the question no attention. Instead, the tall Irken settled back down amongst the cushions and shut his eyes. Satisfied that Purple wasn't going to attack again, Neese scurried to the window. But one glance showed Neese that the window was no escape route, being far too high. Despite being unfettered, the Wever was still a prisoner. 

As Neese slumped down by the window, staring out at the freedom that was just beyond his reach, bells began to sound throughout the city. Bells... Bells, everywhere, ringing, clanging. Neese's ears drooped low. So many bells... And they could only mean one thing. "Father," Neese murmurred softly at first, and then, "Father! Father!" But Tilith Va-Surese would never again be able to answer his son's cries, for the bells heralded that the leader of the Wever's had taken his last breath. 

~*~*~*~*~

Red paced the length of his room - back and forth, back and forth. He'd travelled the trail more times than he could count in the short time he'd been awake. How dare the Wevers lock him up like this! When he got out, heads would roll and blood would flow! Sure, the room was as oppulent as his own quarters on the Massive, but a prison by any other name was still a prison. And Tallest Red was undoubtedly trapped. 

With a ferocious growl, Red ceased his pacing long enough to grab a fragile-looking vase with an even more delicate tapered neck, and he hurled it at the door. There was something satisfying in such a tiny act of resistance, even if the crash caused the headache he'd had since he'd awakened to pound momentarily. A small smirk crossed his lips as he heard nervous shuffling on the other side of the door. _'Good,'_ Red thought. _'Those conniving blue monsters should be afraid of me! When I get my hands on Tilith and his misbegotten shrimp of a son...'_

Oh such vengeance Red would have! The Wevers who survived would tremble at the mere mention of Red's name for generations to come! Red would see to that! How dare Tilith trick Purple into marriage! Red whirled and slammed a fist into the wall. If he had his way, he would annihilate every Wever in the universe! Purple was his, and no one was going to take him from Red! 

As Red continued to seethe, bells blossomed into their clanging songs outside the palace. With a groan, Red buried his face in his hands, for his head throbbed with every ring. Were the Wevers trying to kill him with noise? It certainly felt like his head was fixing to explode. "Stupid sleep drug and its stupid hangover," Red hissed. Louder, he shouted, "Shut the hell up or I'll rip down that door and shut you up!" Oh, the Wevers would pay dearly... 


End file.
